"And we are. You can take a look at the favor you did for me at the same time."
Even as she formulated several arguments against, Byron turned into a driveway and pulled up behind a dramatically glossy black Corvette.
"It's a '63, first year the Stingray rolled out of Detroit," he said with a nod toward the car. "Three hundred sixty horsepower, fuel-injected. An absolute beauty. Not that the original 'Vette wasn't a honey before the redesign. They don't make bodies like that anymore."
"Why do you need two cars?"
"Need isn't the issue. Anyway, I have four cars. The other two are back in Atlanta."
"Four," she murmured, and found this little quirk of his amusing.
"Fifty-seven Chevy, 283-cubic-inch V-8. Baby blue, white sidewalls, all original equipment." There was affection in his voice. Kate thought the southern heat of it flowed over the words like a man describing a lover. "Every bit as classy as the songs they wrote about her."
"Billie Jo Spears." Kate knew her music trivia. "Fifty-seven Chevrolet.'"
"That's the best." Surprised and impressed, he grinned at her. "Keeping her company is a '67 GTO."
"'Three deuces and a four speed'?"
"Right." His grin widened. "And a 389."
She grinned back. "Just what the hell are three deuces, automotively speaking?"
"If you don't know already, it would take a little time to explain. Just let me know if you ever want a serious lesson."
Then he put a hand over Kate's and shifted his gaze to the house. She was relaxed enough not to pull away. "It's great, isn't it?"
"It's nice." All wood and glass, she mused, bilevel decks, flowers already blooming riotously, that wonderful cypress bent and magical. "I've seen it before."
"From the outside." Knowing she'd never wait for him to come around to her door, he leaned across her to open it. And inhaled the simple scent of soap. Enjoying it, he let his gaze wander lazily from her mouth to her eyes. "You'll be another first."
"Excuse me?"
God, was he losing his mind or was he actually starting to look forward to that edgy tone? "My first guest." He got out of the car, retrieved his briefcase and jacket. As they started up the walk, he took her hand in a friendly gesture. "You can hear the sea," he pointed out. "It's just close enough. I've caught a couple of glimpses of seals, too."
It was charming—almost too charming, she thought. The setting, the sounds, the scent of roses and night-blooming jasmine. What was left of the setting sun spread vivid, heartbreaking color across the western sky. The twisted shadows from the trees were long and deep.
"A lot of tourists drive along here," she said, fighting the spell. "Isn't that going to bother you?"
"No. The house is set back from the road, and the bedrooms face the water." He turned the key in the lock. "There's just one problem."
She was glad to hear it. Perfection made her nervous. "What?"
"I don't have much in the way of furniture." He opened the door and proved his point.
It shouldn't have delighted her. Bare floors, bare walls, bare space. Yet she found it delightful, the way the entranceway flowed into a room. The simplest of welcomes. The wide glass doors on the facing wall exploded with that stunning sunset, almost demanded to be opened wide to it.
The yellow pine floors gleamed under her feet as she stepped inside, crossed over them. There was no rug, as yet, to tame that ocean flood of shine.
He would get one, she imagined. It was practical, sensible. But, she thought, it would also be a
shame.
From her outside survey of the house, she hadn't guessed that the ceilings were so high or that the stairs leading to the next level were open, as open as the carved pickets in the ornate railing that skirted the second story.
She could see how cleverly, how simply one room became another, so that the house appeared to be one large living space. White walls, golden floors, and the beautiful bleeding light from the west.
"Great view," she managed and wondered why her palms were damp. Casually she wandered to a crate on which stood an elaborate stereo system. The only piece of furniture was a ratty recliner with duct tape holding the arms together. "You've got the essentials, I see."